The Children of the Capitol
by District Five Tribute
Summary: After much debate, it has been decided by the new government of Panem that a final Hunger Games shall be held, with the children of the Capitol as its tributes. Who will emerge as the victor of the last ever Hunger Games? Reviews are greatly appreciated.
1. The Tributes

**NOTE: The cover image for this story can be used as a visual aid to help identify the tributes. The pictures follow the same pattern as how the tributes are introduced below i.e Drusilla is the top left picture and Lucas is the bottom right. Enjoy reading!**

* * *

 **The Tributes**

"This isn't right", said Peeta. "If we do this, we'll be no better than the Capitol. There have to be better ways than this."

"We voted, Peeta. It's already happening. The Reapings took place this morning. Protest all you like, but we're doing it. We're sending the children of the Capitol to the Hunger Games", Haymitch replied.

Peeta stood up and clenched his fists. "I don't want any part in this", he exclaimed. "I hope your consciences catch up to you. You don't know what you're doing. You know you're going to regret this."

"This isn't going to be like a pageant. There will be no Tribute Parade. No Interviews. No betting or celebrations. It will be sombre and it will be over before you know it. These Games will end all of our oppression."

"How many people do we have to still murder to declare peace! We already won. Let's leave it at that. Katniss, can you condemn a little girl to her death just like Prim?"

"Yes, Peeta. I can. I will", said Katniss. "The Capitol needs to feel our pain. Our suffering."

"I only hope that you can live with your decision, Katniss. Because once they're dead, there's no going back." Peeta stormed out and a silence fell over the council.

Plutarch was the first to break the silence. "I have the names and brief descriptions of our Capitol tributes here. Two from each of the twelve Capitol Precincts." He slid the sheet paper over the table to Katniss. The words were empty and meaningless. The Capitol tributes had been reduced to ink on a page. Katniss read on.

* * *

 **Name:** Drusilla Cabain

 **Age:** 13

 **Gender:** Female

 **IQ:** 115

 **Precinct:** The Barrier

 **Description:** Coming from the extravagantly wealthy Cabain family, Drusilla has wanted for nothing. She adores animals.

* * *

 **Name:** Vyctor Grey

 **Age:** 15

 **Gender:** Male

 **IQ:** 91

 **Precinct:** The Barrier

 **Description:** Vyctor is a popular student at school. He roots for the underdogs during the Hunger Games.

* * *

 **Name:** Summer Seaworth

 **Age:** 16

 **Gender:** Female

 **IQ:** 112

 **Precinct:** The Belt

 **Description:** Musically talented, Summer has never had trouble making friends. She is fiercely opinionated and can't stand it when she doesn't get her way.

* * *

 **Name:** Alec Jaken

 **Age:** 18

 **Gender:** Male

 **IQ:** 99

 **Precinct:** The Belt

 **Description:** The oldest tribute, Alec struggles to remain calm, whether it's excitement, anger or fear.

* * *

 **Name:** Lorna Hewes

 **Age:** 18

 **Gender:** Female

 **IQ:** 86

 **Precinct:** The Border

 **Description:** Lorna betted on District 1 tributes from the time she turned 16.

* * *

 **Name:** Urban Sontis

 **Age:** 17

 **Gender:** Male

 **IQ:** 122

 **Precinct:** The Border

 **Description:** Prior to the Capitol siege, Urban's ambition was to become a Peacekeeper.

* * *

 **Name:** Junia Perce

 **Age:** 14

 **Gender:** Female

 **IQ:** 100

 **Precinct:** The Breakwater

 **Description:** She has a happy, outgoing, optimistic personality. Junia is well-liked among the Capitol.

* * *

 **Name:** Silvan Artemis

 **Age:** 18

 **Gender:** Male

 **IQ:** 106

 **Precinct:** The Breakwater

 **Description:** Silvan aspires to be a chef. He seems to be not nearly as shallow or as superficial as the rest of the Capitol.

* * *

 **Name:** Fallon Hadley

 **Age:** 15

 **Gender:** Female

 **IQ:** 103

 **Precinct:** The Court

 **Description:** Fallon should be able to transfer her gymnastics skills into the Games. She is gaining reputation for being a rebel.

* * *

 **Name:** Broden Stark

 **Age:** 12

 **Gender:** Male

 **IQ:** 93

 **Precinct:** The Court

 **Description:** Broden is a typical Capitol boy. He has always enjoyed watching past Hunger Games.

* * *

 **Name:** Lenora Hestia

 **Age:** 18

 **Gender:** Female

 **IQ:** 122

 **Precinct:** The Jack

 **Description:** She is completely obsessed with the Hunger Games and has been analyzing the Careers' tactics for as long as she can remember.

* * *

 **Name:** Otis Bruen

 **Age:** 16

 **Gender:** Male

 **IQ:** 114

 **Precinct:** The Jack

 **Description:** Otis loves District 5 for some reason. He bet heavily on Alyssa Cobalt in the 74th Games.

* * *

 **Name:** Fausta Greer

 **Age:** 15

 **Gender:** Female

 **IQ:** 117

 **Precinct:** The Plaza

 **Description:** Fausta comes from a lower-class Capitol family. Her father worked as a member of District 9's prep team for several years before his recent execution.

* * *

 **Name:** Cicero Merriweather

 **Age:** 12

 **Gender:** Male

 **IQ:** 104

 **Precinct:** The Plaza

 **Description:** Cicero is the youngest tribute with health problems as a young child. He is mild-mannered and polite.

* * *

 **Name:** Lily Snow

 **Age:** 13

 **Gender:** Female

 **IQ:** 109

 **Precinct:** The Pulse

 **Description:** Lily had already established herself as a Capitol trendsetter, probably due to her late grandfather's great political achievements as the former president of Panem.

* * *

 **Name:** Falko Mirren

 **Age:** 16

 **Gender:** Male

 **IQ:** 127

 **Precinct:** The Pulse

 **Description:** Although aloof and unfriendly, Falko seems to be capable of much damage in the Games.

* * *

 **Name:** Larissa Venti

 **Age:** 17

 **Gender:** Female

 **IQ:** 140

 **Precinct:** The Ridge

 **Description:** Easily the most intelligent of the tributes, it seems as though Larissa's hot-headed personality has not had any trouble making enemies at school.

* * *

 **Name:** Maximilian "Max" Canter

 **Age:** 14

 **Gender:** Male

 **IQ:** 95

 **Precinct:** The Ridge

 **Description:** Maximilian, or "Max" prefers the company of his video games rather than people.

* * *

 **Name:** Tunney Sinclair

 **Age:** 16

 **Gender:** Female

 **IQ:** 126

 **Precinct:** The Skyline

 **Description:** Intelligent, impulsive and brave, Tunney will make a formidable opponent in the Games.

* * *

 **Name:** Oberyn Newcastle

 **Age:** 17

 **Gender:** Male

 **IQ:** 110

 **Precinct:** The Skyline

 **Description:** Lost both of his parents during the Capitol siege. Has been living alone ever since. Demonstrates resourcefulness and cunning.

* * *

 **Name:** Sergia Rookwood

 **Age:** 16

 **Gender:** Female

 **IQ:** 132

 **Precinct:** The Spear

 **Description:** Sergia does very well in school. She has a talent for blackmail, extortion and victory.

* * *

 **Name:** Corsan Valeria

 **Age:** 17

 **Gender:** Male

 **IQ:** 120

 **Precinct:** The Spear

 **Description:** Corsan is at the top of his field for competitive sports in the Capitol.

* * *

 **Name:** Innogen Reaves

 **Age:** 15

 **Gender:** Female

 **IQ:** 82

 **Precinct:** The Track

 **Description:** Innogen has the lowest intelligence of the Capitol tributes. She loves to dance and comes from a big family.

* * *

 **Name:** Lucas Farren

 **Age:** 18

 **Gender:** Male

 **IQ:** 132

 **Precinct:** The Track

 **Description:** Highly intelligent, Lucas was in training to become a doctor before he was reaped.

* * *

"Any other objections?" Plutarch asked, his eyes flickering around the table. "No? Good. I'll be resuming my position as Head Gamemaker for these Games. I'll let the rest of the team know we're ready to start."


	2. First Impressions

**First Impressions**

* * *

 **Cicero**

We sit in a circle, taking in how much our lives have changed in the last week. On Monday our lives were as normal as they could be, after the Second Rebellion. On Tuesday the government announced a final Hunger Games that the children of the Capitol would have to compete in. On Wednesday we had to register for Reaping at school. On Thursday we realized that this was no joke. It was happening. On Friday they reaped 24 of us, one boy and one girl from each of the twelve Capitol Precincts, just like they did with the Districts. My name is Cicero Merriweather. I live on 65 Reynolds Avenue, in the part of the Capitol called the Plaza. All important government buildings like the Tribute Centre are located here. That's where we are now.

At twelve years old, I am the youngest person here. Everyone is so much bigger than me. The only person I can recognize is Fausta and that's because we have school together. Even so, she's so much older than me.

A lot of the girls are crying. I want to cry too. I want to go home.

"Let's begin with introductions", our Supervisor says. He's been put in charge to make sure that none of us try to run away. "I'll go first. I'm Haymitch. There. Just say your name and move on to the person next to you." He gestures to a small, weepy girl on his right.

"I'm Drusilla", she blubbers, her bottom lip twitching and her eyes raw.

"Vyctor", the boy next to her says.

Summer. Alec. Lorna. Urban. Everyone says their name hushedly or weepily. Junia. Silvan. Fallon. Broden. Names of people that will be dead in a few days time. Lenora. Otis. Fausta.

"Cicero", I squeak when Fausta turns to look at me. For a split second all eyes are trained on me. It's the longest split second of my life. Lily. Falko. Larissa. Max. The whispering resumes. Tunney. Oberyn. Sergia. Corsan. Innogen. Lucas.

We all turn to stare back at Haymitch. "So now that you've had a chance to get to know each other…"

I don't. I don't know anyone here. I look at the faces. I try to remember some of their names so I can talk to them. We're not enemies. We're in the same horrible situation.

The tall, slim girl with the extremely long blonde hair and hoop earrings is Lorna. The one with the beautiful, deep red hair and dark teal eyes and lipstick is Tunney. The kind-looking, bespectacled boy with the short, white-blonde hair and beard is Lucas. The weepy girl with the pink hair who introduced herself at the beginning is Drusilla.

"...make alliances. It's your best shot to survive. None of you have the kinds of skills the Careers had. None of you know how to be hungry like the Outer Districts. You make friends and you stick together. Think of this as the first day of school. You're new here and don't know anyone. What do you do? You make friends." Haymitch glances up at the clock. "OK, it's seven o'clock now. I'll give you two hours to truly get to know one another. Then it's time for bed. You've got Training in the morning." He claps his hands together and gestures for us to move.

* * *

 **Sergia**

It feels oddly like a game. The way that everything is so organized, so structured. Our interactions hardly seem real. I gossip with some of the other girls and laugh at their jokes, but deep down I'm analyzing their behaviour. Haymitch is right. To survive in the arena, I'll need friends.

Lorna is a ditz. Summer seems snobbish. Falko is a creep. Larissa is a misanthrope.

But some of the others are nice enough. Tunney has a spirited personality. Lily has some nice stories about her grandfather. Urban even flirts a little.

By the end of the evening, I have a decent feeling for what everyone is going to be like in the arena. Who will be strong and who will collapse. I've made my peace with these Games; there's not much I can do about it, except win. And I'm not going to win if I'm weak.

* * *

 **Broden**

I ride up to our floor with the other girl from my Precinct, Fallon. Her hair is fiery, like a phoenix. We're both from the Court and I see her in school. The Court's floor used to belong to the District 5 tributes. Now it's ours for this year.

"I can't believe you got reaped", Fallon says, her arms folded. "Your name was only in there once."

"And yours nine times", I reply. "What were your first impressions about the others?"

"I didn't like them. Almost everyone was acting so… _fine_ with the whole idea of being sent to the arena to kill each other. Like they were actually looking _forward_ to this. Especially the older ones. Did you see how that one girl with the dark blue hair and lipstick kept bragging about how she was always analyzing how the Careers worked? Lenora, I think her name was."

"And the silver-haired guy who acted like this was his life's dream?"

"Was that Urban, from the Border?"

I nod.

"Geez. I noticed that too."

"Who do you think you want to ally with?" I ask quietly.

"Well, it's early days. I don't know anyone well enough to make that sort of decision right now. Plus, nobody wants me on their team."

"I might." Fallon turns to look at me, slightly bewildered.

"Why?" she asks.

"Because… I like you and I know you better than anyone else and I trust you. I don't think that anyone else is going to want to drag me around with them."

"And what if I don't want to drag you around?" she teases, smiling.

"You got a better idea?"

Fallon laughs. "OK, kiddo. You got yourself an ally."

I smile and we exit the elevator.

* * *

 **Lily**

The wadded up contents of an entire box of tissues on my bed is proof for how much I have been crying. My nose and eyes sting whenever I move to wipe away a tear or blow my nose.

Grandfather would never have let this happen. If he were alive, he would have crushed the rebellion and brought everything back to normal. The way that it should be. I don't deserve to die like this. This is so unfair and heartless. Forcing us to kill each other. They don't know what it feels like to lie in bed, knowing that when 24 go in, only one comes out.

 _I miss you so much, Grandfather,_ I think, hugging the blankets closer to my chest.


	3. Alliances

**Alliances**

* * *

 **Otis**

Haymitch told us that there will be no Tribute Parade. There will be no interviews. There will be no betting. There will be no sponsors in the Games once we get started; supplies will be delivered based on our performance in the Games. There will be no victory ceremony or interviews for the winner. Everything will be as clinical and clean as possible.

I can almost hear Lenora in the room across from mine, snoring loudly. How can she be sleeping at a time like this? I've been up for hours, watching the sun rise over the skyscrapers of the Capitol and shimmer.

I order some coffee from room service and think about the next few days. I don't think things have quite sunk in yet. Perhaps they will in a few days time.

Training begins today. It's the only thing apart from the Reapings that still remains of the pre-Games. The Gamemakers thought we should be given the chance to practice how we're going to kill one another. I've never held a weapon in my life, let alone see one except on TV from previous Hunger Games. However, I _have_ seen what damage they can do. There's always a lot of blood. I can imagine that if your killer isn't quick about it, it will be incredibly painful.

My stomach growls. That will be the other issue. How will any of us last more than a few days if we can't hunt or forage for food? Starvation is also fairly common in the Games. It looks even more painful that being stabbed.

Lenora and I are the only people at breakfast, except for two guards standing in a corner. Lenora's pretty. She would probably be even prettier without her hair and lips stained navy blue. Her skin is the colour of milk chocolate and looks very soft.

"Hey, Otis", she says in between mouthfuls of French toast. I say hello back. We don't talk for the rest of breakfast but I see her fidgeting, tapping her fingernails and feet. Could she actually be looking forward to this? It makes me uncomfortable.

Usually there would be several other people eating at this table. A handful of prior victors, the district escort, maybe the stylists. We have no need for any of that now. Haymitch is our only mentor.

We shower and dress and ride the elevator down to the bottom floor to begin training.

* * *

 **Urban**

Looking around at some of the impatient expressions on the other tributes' faces, I can tell that I'm not the only one who wants Katniss to shut up and let us get on with practicing. The better I can do here, the better I'll be in the arena.

"Take it from my personal experience. If you want to win, you can't ignore the survival stations. Weapons will help you to make a kill but they won't help you build a shelter, or light a fire", Katniss says. She's been put in charge of overseeing our training. The lady who used to do it is nowhere to be seen.

One of the cool things about this is that we get to see what goes on during Training. For those two-and-a-half days when the tributes would hide away from the rest of the world, things would get really boring. We used to have to get our Hunger Games fix on rewatching the Reapings and Tribute Parade, or other past Games. Now I'm living it. It's pretty intense, but cool.

When Katniss finally shuts her fat mouth I move over to the heavy weapons stations. I had always thought that if I were in a district, I would be in 2. It just always seems to have fit my personality.

It looks like us older tributes have scared away some of the younger ones. They look at us fearfully and slink back into the corners with the lame survival skills. If I've learned anything about watching the Games year after year, it's that the Careers almost always win. So to win, I'm going to need to turn from a Capitol boy to a Career.

I spend most of the morning bashing dummy heads with a giant mace or wrestling and punching with some of the trainers who have been provided to help us with hand-to-hand combat. But this isn't just a time to get in with practice, it's about forming alliances. Larissa, the Asian bombshell from yesterday's chat walks over.

"Nice moves", she compliments, eyeing up my latest punch flirtatiously. I return her compliment with one of my own, though perhaps not exactly to do with her axe-throwing.

"I would like to propose an alliance", she invites. "I've already joined up with Lenora and Falko." She gestures to two people behind her shooting arrows into targets. They're not bad actually. I was initially going to ask some of the older, stronger-looking boys like Alec or perhaps Lucas but Larissa's offer seems even better. If I have to choose between spending the next few days with a bunch of boys or a couple of hot girls, I know which I would prefer.

"OK. Let's do it", I say.

* * *

 **Tunney**

"Lucas", I say, looking at the white-blond boy trying to light a fire.

"No, I think he's already taken", Oberyn replies. "I saw him shaking hands with the two guys he was with earlier. What are their names?"

"Alec Jaken and Silvan Artemis."

"Wow. That's very precise."

I smile at him. "I just want to know who our enemies are going to be."

Oberyn snickers. "You're beginning to sound like Lenora."

"She's not stupid, Oberyn. She's probably the most experienced person here, even though it's only by a little. It wouldn't hurt us to try and remember what previous victors have done to win."

"Make alliances is what they did."

"Exactly. Do you want to ask her to join our team?"

"Who, Lenora?"

"Yes, Oberyn!" I say exasperatedly.

"No."

"Has she got another group?"

"I think so. It looks like she's with the short, black-haired, Asian girl and the muscled dude with the silver hair throwing punches...and the green-haired guy too, I presume."

"Larissa, Urban and Falko. I don't like the look of them. They seem way too relaxed about everything that's going on." I look past Oberyn's black-and-red hair and golden earring to the petite blonde behind him, throwing well-aimed knives furiously in the hearts of targets. "What about her?"

"Sergia? I guess so. She seems to be the only decent-looking one left. I was just about to point out that dude at the sword station. Tall. Purple hair. Dark skin. He looks useful enough with that sword in his hand."

"That's Sergia's Precinct partner, Corsan. They're both from the Spear."

"Spearheads, eh? You know what they always say about spearheads", Oberyn jokes.

"Yes I do. And if that stereotype is true, we better snatch them up quick before anyone else has the chance to strike a deal. You go talk to Corsan, and I'll talk to Sergia. See what their plans are."

* * *

 **Drusilla**

I look up from the patchwork of leaves, pine needles and mud that I've made at the camouflage station to see what everyone else is doing. They've seemed to separate into smaller groups. The girl with the red hair and dark teal eyes and her partner with the red-and-black hair and gold earring are joined by two others and they take turns throwing axes. The silver-haired scary guy has his own group. The white-blond boy with the glasses has a couple of other guys throwing spears with him. Even fire-hair-girl and her Precinct partner have two other young girls sitting with them, trying to make some snares.

I walk over to the only person that I know, Vyctor. He's a few years older than me but he's scared like me, and that's oddly comforting. I want my mummy and daddy. I don't want to be here with all the scary people. I want to go home.

I'm afraid I'll break down again if I think about the Hunger Game anymore.

"Hello, Drusilla", Vyctor says. "Can I help you with anything?"

I shuffle my feet. I don't want to go into the arena by myself but I'm too afraid to ask him. I open my mouth but change my mind at the last minute.

"Can you help test me on edible plants?"

Vyctor is a little surprised but he nods. After a few rounds of very bad guessing, he asks me if he wants me to stick around with him in the Games. I say yes immediately out of pure relief that somebody's got my back. Even if it's only for a little while and then we die.

The tears start flowing again.

* * *

 **Alec**

By the end of the first day of Training, everyone has an ally. Whether it was because they sought them out or were forced together because they were left over, no-one is going into the arena alone. Some, like the two blonde idiots Summer and Lorna, are small. Others, like Larissa's gang, are larger. I'm happy that I've got Lucas and Silvan. I'll fight, Lucas will nurse us back to health if we get injured and Silvan can cook.

Sleep will come a little easier tonight to everyone. No matter how bad or dangerous our situation is, we've got each other.


	4. Distractions

**Distractions**

* * *

 **Junia**

The second day of training plays out much like the first, except now there is little interaction with people outside of our alliances. For me, this means restricting my communication to the tomboyish Fallon, talkative Broden and lily-livered Innogen.

Most of the larger alliances with the older kids are spending today at the survival skills stations, letting us have the chance at weapons practice. I'm not particularly good at anything, but at least I'm not as bad as Innogen, who hasn't managed to actually fire an arrow into the target yet. I still have my reservations about her. I feel as though the four of us were lumped together and leftovers; rejects that nobody else wanted. Innogen is unlikely to be of any help in the Games, but I didn't have the heart to exclude her. I just imagined what it would be like to be in her situation and my heart went out to her.

"Do we have a strategy, guys?" Fallon asks. She's the most level-headed and logical of the four of us. In an unspoken way, we've elected her as leader.

"I think we should run away", suggests Innogen in her distant, fearful way.

"I think we should hide out and wait. None of us very good fighters", I say.

Fallon agrees with me. "The only problem with that is that we'll need plenty of food and water. The Gamemakers won't guarantee us either of those. And by the looks of things, whatever we can't pick up from the Cornucopia will be claimed by one of the other alliances."

"So we're heading into the bloodbath?" I whimper. That is always the worst part of the Games to watch. My parents wouldn't even let me watch it until last year's Quarter Quell, and only then because it was a special occasion.

"Absolutely. If our strategy is going to hide, we'll need to leave the Cornucopia with as much as we can possibly carry. Otherwise we don't stand a chance at all. Now no more talking, we need to get in some more practice."

She's trying to distract us. Make us work hard and think hard so we can forget about death. It's a hard thing to stop thinking about.

The Gamemakers look down at us intently. The only familiar one is Plutarch Heavensbee; the rest are new. Once, I thought of them as great directors of the best TV show the world has ever seen. Thoroughly deserving of all the trophies they got at the Annual Capitol Screen Awards. Now they are our executioners. The only thing I can compare it to is finding out that one of your friends has betrayed you. That disgusted, sick feeling. I don't ever want that to happen again.

* * *

 **Oberyn**

The hate is growing.

What used to be expressions of indifference have turned into loathing. The way that we sneer and narrow our eyes at each other has become the norm. Our second day of Training isn't even over yet and the district rebels have already turned us against one another. I suppose that it's all for the best. I imagine it's easier to kill someone you hate. The problem is Tunney. I don't hate her. I really like her. We were already friends at school, but I was always interested in something more than friendship. But it's too late for any of that now. I need to focus on what's important. Staying alive.

"Calm down, Oberyn. You look like you're going to have a stroke", says Tunney. She's so beautiful.

"Why are you so angry?" the other guy on our group, Corsan asks.

"I just…" I look over at the other lunch table. Urban, Larissa, Lenora and Falko have claimed the entire table and are eating lunch there, their angry faces mirroring mine. "I just want to kill them so badly", I hiss.

A suddenly seething Tunney slaps me in the face. "Don't say that. You know it's not true. You don't _want_ to kill anybody. Nobody here _wants_ to kill anyone. We're in the same crappy situation together. That alliance is not our enemy. The real enemy put us in here. Show some kindness."

"Kindness doesn't exist in the Games, Tunney. I'm with Oberyn on this one", Sergia says.

"So you have no regard for your morality, your humanity. It's what we forced the districts to do to one another. And I see it now. I see that it was wrong. I don't want the Capitol to be the bad guys anymore."

There's a pause before Corsan speaks up.

"The hate. It distracts us."

Tunney is quiet after that.

* * *

 **Summer**

I'm glad I ended up with Lorna as an ally. We make a pretty good team. In fact, I think our chances of winning have risen just by us being together. She's so gorgeous, and athletic too, with long, silky-smooth blonde hair and even longer, tanned legs. We have a lot in common too. We'd probably be best friends if we weren't stuck here.

We both know our gossip is a distraction. It takes us back to the safety of our lives before the rebellion, where everything was peaches and cream. We ooh and aah about boys and we gossip about celebrities. We discuss fashion and we rave about parties. We don't talk about the Games.

* * *

 **Fausta**

As I walk past his bedroom late that night, I can hear Cicero crying. I knock on the door and he lets me in. His large, owl-like eyes are dripping with tears, leaving little trails on his cheeks.

"Are you OK?" I ask. Of course he's not. It's a stupid question. But now that we're allies, I have a duty to comfort him. To be his big sister.

"I'm so scared", he cries, his chest heaving. The sight of him breaking down makes me scared too. How could the districts force a little kid like this to his death?

"I know how to distract you", I say, leading him over to the bed and tucking him in. "I'll tell you a story. And whenever you're scared, just tell yourself the story and you won't be scared anymore."

Cicero nods. He's stopped crying at least. I put on my most soothing voice that I use for my little brothers when I tell them stories. "Once upon a time..." I begin. He'll like this one. It has a happy ending. I can't say the same for us tributes though. 23 of our stories won't have happy endings.


	5. Outscored

**Outscored**

* * *

 **Lucas**

There's only one thought on my mind as I wake up this morning - the Games begin tomorrow. Part of me thinks this is better than dragging out with the Interviews and whatnot because it shortens the length of time for us to be scared of what's to come. The other part of me wishes that I had just a few more days to stay alive.

I know I'm not going to win. I'm not an idiot. There are smarter, faster, stronger tributes who will undoubtedly outscore me when tonight's Training Scores are released to Panem. I hope I don't embarrass myself.

I don't feel any anger to the districts. I think their actions here are justified. I just wish it wasn't me who is having to be punished for what the Capitol has done. I never even liked the Hunger Games. I was a minority in the Capitol, a stereotype, the radical youth with radical ideas about how the country should be run. Words like 'democracy' and 'rights for all' could get you killed. But it was easier for the Capitol to call us 'ungrateful, good-for-nothing hooligans' than actually kill us. If I could have, I would have joined the rebels in the Capitol and fought to overthrow the government. But I was 'too busy' being trained to become a doctor. It was an act of cowardice on my part - running away and hiding behind an excuse instead of fighting for what I believed in. I'm not the only one who hates the society that the Capitol had built for the districts. Silvan agrees with me completely. So does Tunney. Fallon does too.

All I hope for when these Games are over is that Panem will be at peace forever.

* * *

 **Lenora**

"Come on people. In less than 24 hours, we're going to be fighting for our lives in the arena. We have a long way to go until we're ready", I shout at the other people in my alliance. Urban looks ticked off that I'm bossing him around. But I've been preparing for something like this my entire life.

At school, instead of productions or school plays, we had Hunger Games re-enactments. I always got lead roles. I played Katniss Everdeen in the 74th and 75th re-enactments. Some people said that I prepared for the roles too seriously. _You don't actually have to learn how to shoot a bow and arrow. There's no need to learn how to build a real fire. Why do you spend so much time watching old footage over and over?_ The Hunger Games was my life. I lived for them each year. And now I will win my own Games.

I've been drilling Larissa, Urban and Falko around each station for the last two days, making sure that they each have some level of competency at everything. Now I want them to focus on their strengths. You see a similar pattern in victors every year. They each have their own signature weapon. Katniss had her bow. Finnick had his trident. Johanna had her axe. Me? I've got a mace.

At lunch we huddle down at our table and talk urgently in hushed voices. Discussing and refining our battle plan. Who does what at the bloodbath. Which enemy do we take out first. What our Plan B's are.

The other alliances are doing the same. This is going to be a storm.

* * *

 **Innogen**

I'm the only one left. Everyone else has gone in for their individual assessments already. Being the last one makes you the most nervous. What happens if I do badly? How much will my training score impact my performance in the Games and opportunities to get sponsored?

My hands are shaking and I'm sweating when my name is announced,

"Innogen Reaves. The Track."

The doors slide open and Lucas walks out. His face is blank so I don't know how well he did.

I get up and walk back into the training room. The Gamemakers invite me to begin but I don't know what to do. I'm not good at anything.

Hot tears slide down my face and I collapse onto the floor. I can hear the Gamemakers murmur among themselves.

"Miss Reaves, why don't you begin by showing us some survival skills."

I'm so embarrassed. I get even more embarrassed when I can't even light a fire using matches. All of my snares collapse as soon as I make them. None of my arrows hit anything close to the targets where they're supposed to go. One even manages to fly to the other side of the room by the knife-throwing station. I want to run back hope and hide away from the world under my blankets. Even standing here requires all the strength I have. Finally one of the Gamemakers clears his throat.

"You may leave now, Miss Reaves."

I haven't even left the room when the tears start gushing again.

* * *

 **Max**

I sit with the rest of the tributes in the lobby of the Tribute Centre. A huge television has been installed for us to watch the training scores being announced. Everyone talks in low voices and Haymitch pours himself another glass of spirits.

"What are you hoping for?" Otis asks me, his face white as talc.

"As high as possible, I suppose", I reply. Poor Otis. I asked him and Lily how their sessions went. Lily thought that she did OK - at least well enough to not get a really low score but apparently Otis panicked and screwed up big time. As for myself, I'm pleased. I avoided weapons entirely, but my fire lit on the second attempt, all my edible plants memory skills were satisfactory and I did the Gauntlet obstacle course quickly and without mistakes.

Haymitch turns on the TV and flicks to the channel with the woman who is reading out the scores. It's neither Caesar Flickerman nor Claudius Templesmith - everyone knows what happened to them after the rebels invaded the Capitol. It's just some district woman, plain brown hair and simple reading glasses.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. May I turn your attention to tonight's programme. After much deliberation, the Gamemakers of this year's Hunger Games have generated scores for the tributes after two-and-a-half days of intensive training. These scores represent the level of ability of the tributes to perform successfully in the Hunger Games. Let us begin." She picks up a piece of paper in front of her.

"Drusilla Cabain. The Barrier." The freckled girl with the pink pigtails sitting at the front sits up a little straighter. "Drusilla has scored a 3." No-one says a word. Drusilla breaks down quietly, her head in her hands.

"Also from the Barrier is Vyctor Grey. He receives a 5." No comments there either.

"From the Belt comes Summer Seaworth with a score of 4."

"What?" Summer cried incredulously. "I thought I did really well. They can't do that. Make them redo the scores. This is _so_ biased and unfair." Lorna tries to calm her down as the next score is announced.

"Alec Jaken from the Belt is awarded a 7." This is met by gasps. The first decent score. Alec blushes, but looks pleased. Silvan claps him on the back and Lucas smiles.

"Lorna Hewes arrives to us from the Border. She has received a 4." Now it's Lorna's turn to protest and argue with the results. Both Summer and Lorna pout for the rest of the announcement.

"Her Precinct partner Urban Sontis is awarded a very impressive 8." Urban whoops and punches his fist. The other members of his alliance clap and cheer.

"Junia Perce from the Breakwater has been given a 3. Silvan Artemis, also from the Breakwater, has been awarded a score of 5." Disappointed groans from Silvan and more crying from Junia.

"The Court's Fallon Hadley scores a 6." Fallon nods and her teammates smile and whisper congratulations.

"Broden Stark from the Court has been given a 5."

"Lenora Hestia. The Jack. Oh my goodness… Lenora has scored a 10! A 10, ladies and gentlemen!" The room erupts with cheer from Lenora's alliance. She smiles smugly. It's Career smug. I hope she dies.

The training score lady has obviously sensed some disruption because she ushers the viewers to calm down. "Next is Otis Bruen from the Jack too." I look nervously at Otis. He's gone green. "Otis has scored a 3." I grimace. I can see tears in his eyes.

"Don't worry Otis", Lily whispers reassuringly. "We'll be OK. It's not the end of the world."

"Fausta Greer comes to us from the Plaza. She has scored a 4. Meanwhile, Fausta's Precinct partner Cicero Merriweather has been awarded a score of 5." Fausta and Cicero exchange glances. Cicero looks very surprised, like he didn't expect to do so well.

"Lily Snow. The Pulse." Lily breathes in and holds her breath. "Lily scores a 5 as well." She exhales. I can't read her expressions. Is that relief or panic?

"The Pulse also brings us Falko Mirren. The Gamemakers have given him a 9. Well done, Falko." Yet again more cheering. That's three of the four in that alliance who have scored in Career range, while the rest of us suffer through 4s or 5s.

"Larissa Venti from the Ridge." Oh no. I'm next. My heartbeat suddenly accelerates into action. "Larissa receives an 8." More cheering and whooping and high-fiving. Lenora looks so smug that it looks like she'll explode.

"Max Canter also from the Ridge." My heart stops. Please don't be low. Please don't be low. "He scores a very respectable 6." Air whooshes out of my lungs in relief. 6. 6 is good. I can live with 6.

"Tunney Sinclair from the Skyline has been awarded a score of 9. Congratulations, Tunney." Tunney looks shocked, but her teammates explode in celebration in an apparent mockery of the other alliance. Lenora and Larissa sneer at them.

"Oberyn Newcastle from the Skyline is hot on her heels with an 7." At this point I know that we have no chance. If you look at the scores people have been given, my 6 is the highest score in our alliance, Alec's 7 is the highest score of any person not in the two big alliances and within the two big alliances themselves, the lowest score has been an 8. We're doomed. And I don't think that I'm the only person who realizes that.

"Sergia Rookwood from the Spear has been given a 8. Corsan Valeria from the Spear has been awarded an 8 too. Well done. And lastly, the Track brings us Innogen Reaves and Lucas Farren. They score a 2 and 7 respectively." Innogen doesn't even have to ask what 'respectively' means. Even though we're about to fight to the death tomorrow, I still pity her. Her 2 is the lowest score. It's got to be hard to deal with and now she'll have it hanging over her head tonight. Innogen isn't going to get any sleep tonight. Then again, none of us will.

Haymitch turns of the TV, cutting of the announcer's ending remarks and dismisses us to bed.

"You've got a big day ahead of you." Ain't that the truth.

* * *

 **Lorna**

 _I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die._

This is the only thing I can think of. The thought won't let me sleep, even though it's well into the early hours of the morning. The bed sheets are a mess from how I've tossed and turned. I can imagine what my hair looks like.

I've already vomited several times and my pyjamas are soaked with sweat. I look out of the window and to the beautiful night lights of the Capitol. I could smash the window easily - but then what would I do? Not jump, but perhaps try and find an escape. I'm sure that someone has tried to do this in the past. I watch the cars go by for an hour before fatigue overtakes fear. I return to my bed.

Almost all of the other tributes outscored me. _I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die._ I have never been brave. I don't think I ever will be.

Going to sleep knowing that this is your last night ever isn't something that many people get to experience. I would never wish it on anyone.


	6. Bloodbath

**Bloodbath**

* * *

 **Fallon**

There is an emptiness in my stomach that won't go away. Understandably too, considering that the Games begin in less than two hours. I take a shower that would be way too hot on any other day except for this one. My fire-coloured hair is beginning to fade. Already mousy-brown roots are peaking through. I'm going to be total mess if I get out of the arena. Physically, emotionally, mentally. The victors of the districts always try to cover their damage up, but some of us see through their mask. We know they drink and drug themselves out of the nightmares. I pray that I don't end up like that.

Broden's usually cheerful smile has been wiped away like a spill. He slumps slightly and keeps his hands in his pockets. At breakfast I hardly get to eat anything, partly because I'm so terrified and partly because I'm going over our strategy with Broden for the billionth time. In these Games, we're our own mentors.

The uniform for the arena that an Avox has laid out for us is nondescript. Running shoes, black track pants and a grey-green tank top. There's a dark grey sweater too, with a hood. I dress and Broden and I wait for someone to come and collect us. It takes a little longer than usual - the guards catch Broden trying to smuggle some bread rolls under his shirt.

We ride silently and solemnly down to the lobby where we are joined by the rest of our opponents. We are all dressed the same. The clothes stop individualization, making it easier for everyone to see us as fiction, instead of a unique person.

Haymitch's last words are a reminder of what's about to happen.

"Stick to your allies. Don't waste your food or water too soon. It'll all be over before you know it." He doesn't mention the part where 23 of us die. I guess it's not in the spirit of the Games.

The flight over is uncomfortable, not to mention silent. My arm throbs from where they injected my tracker. Innogen, Junia and Drusilla were so terrified of the injection that they had to be paralyzed. Opposite from where I'm sitting is Corsan. We don't look at each other at all.

After an hour, the plane lands and the doors open. Guards lead us out one by one to our fates.

* * *

 **Vyctor**

The air down here is heavy; it makes me claustrophobic. The room itself is small, but the air and the smell is worse. I've already thrown up breakfast in the corner and my hands shake so hard that I can't grab onto anything. The glass cylinder is ominous.

A guard enters abruptly, sending my heart racing. Evidently he's here to make sure I get into the cylinder and away from the rest of the world.

"Time to go," he ushers. I walk very slowly over to the cylinder. My head spins. I contemplate fighting back, but I know I can't win. The worst thing that could happen is that I get injured right before the Games begin.

There's a whoosh as the cylinder rises. I panic. All of my limbs are shaking. I begin to hyperventilate. The sun blasts down on me and an unfamiliar voice booms out.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the 76th and final Hunger Games begin."

* * *

 **Silvan**

We circle the golden Cornucopia, shouting or making gestures at our allies to prepare for the upcoming onslaught. Alec waves at me to charge forward, pointing at a big crate not too far away from me. I can't see Lucas. He must be obscured by the Cornucopia.

Those who aren't communicating frantically are staring around at the arena in fascination and horror. There has never been an arena like this. We were prepared for forest or desert, not this.

It's a city. A dilapidated, utterly destroyed, abandoned city, straight out of a horror movie. Decay and age have peeled all of the paint from the buildings, rusted the cars and caused plants to seep through cracks and crevices in the walls. This is _very_ old. You can tell from the design of the cars. This city probably predates even the Dark Days. Was it abandoned or attacked? If I look closer I can see evidence of war: small holes in walls that could be bullet holes, piles of rubble from bombs, black soot stains from fire. Did the Gamemakers discover this city or design it to look this way? Either way, it's creepy.

I pay attention to my immediate surroundings. The Cornucopia seems to be in some sort of town square. Four broad roads branch from the square. In front of me, the road leads to the tallest two buildings in the city. They're not gigantic, but they could've been office buildings a long time ago. Behind me the road leads to a beach far in the distance. To my left is a wildly overgrown park, with grass almost waist high. To my right, the road continues on to a suburban area, dotted with the ruins of bombed-out houses.

I see Alec making discreet gestures to run down to the beach. I nod. There is no crying among the other tributes. There is no screaming. The air is heavy with focus and concentration. We all tense up to run.

I'm a terrible runner. Probably because I'm quite overweight. It's not all my fault. Food has just always been my passion. But the extra weight will definitely slow me down. I can't afford that.

The gong sounds and time freezes. Everything goes into slow motion. I leap off my pedestal and sprint as fast as my legs will take me, but not fast enough. After only a few seconds, the fastest runners - Lorna, Larissa, Sergia and Lucas have already arrived and begin ripping into the numerous crates and bags. I've been assigned with getting the supplies while Alec and Lucas cover me. Lucas already has a spear and throws it at Lorna. It misses.

The rest of us have arrived and utter mayhem ensues. Fists come out, punching, kicking, pulling hair, biting, pushing. Alec takes a spear and fires it through Vyctor's chest. Blood spurts out of his mouth and he slumps to the concrete, a pool of blood forming around him. The first death. I rush over to Alec and Lucas, narrowly missing one of Falko's arrows.

Suddenly there's another scream as Lenora tackles Junia and clubs her to death with a mace. I retch. There's nothing left of her face, just bloody pulp.

"Silvan!" I hear Lucas cry. I bend down and grab a couple of packs, stuffing anything I can find nearby into them. Lucas and Alec stand guard, spears in hand. We're not the only ones with this idea. Several other alliances have guards protecting those who are collecting supplies. Tunney is next to me, shoving a green sleeping bag into a huge backpack. She runs over and punches me in the face. Pain and blood gushes into my mouth while Alec kicks her away. He throws his spear, but just misses her.

I get up to open up a nearby crate. A few metres away is Otis' bloodstained body and Tunney's bloody sword leaving his chest. She grabs his sack of apples and runs away.

I jerk my head up at the surrounding action. Blood drips from my mouth. I see tiny Drusilla crumpling to the ground, an axe stuck in her skull. Fallon sprints over and retrieves it, before swinging it around and smashing open a supply crate.

"SUMMER! NO!" I hear Lorna scream. Corsan has tackled her to the ground, and they struggle. Summer manages to kick him in the groin and he howls in pain and retracts. As Summer is stumbling away, a knife comes out of nowhere and hits her in the back. Sergia leaps over me, armed with a second knife and thrusts it into Summer's corpse. Lorna shrieks and screams. Sergia throws another knife in her direction, but it zooms past Lorna's hair. She stumbles away from the Cornucopia, screaming and crying. She is the first to leave. She doesn't have any supplies at all.

"Look out!" Alec shouts. I spin around. Urban is charging towards me, mace in hand. He bowls me over and dodges Lucas' and Alec's spears. They rip him of me and I crawl away. My heart is beating the fastest and strongest it ever has. My blood is pure adrenalin. I get up clumsily and turn to face Alec and Lucas, one second too late. Falko's arrow is fired in the distance and sinks deeply into my chest. The pain sucks the air out of my lungs. I feel dizzy and my vision blurs. My muscles give way and I fall. Lucas shouts something but I can't hear. I can't breathe. I can't see. Everything has gone black.

* * *

 **Corsan**

Silvan collapses like a deflated balloon. Behind me, Tunney has been struck in the head by Lenora. She's bleeding, but she's alive. I help her up and grab the pack she's assembled. We locate Sergia who is stuffing items into a pack of her own and Oberyn, who has just pierced Innogen in the heart with an arrow.

"Tunney's hurt. We need to get out of her now!" I yell. Sergia shakes her head.

"We don't have enough supplies yet! If we leave now, Larissa's alliance will divide up what remains. Duck!" Sergia flings a knife at Alec. It hits him in the thigh and he screams in pain. Urban charges over and brings his mace down on Alec's head. I see Lucas watching, his mouth open in horror. Oberyn fires an arrow at him, but Lucas ducks out of the way. He grabs Alec's massive pack and sprints away towards the park.

Sergia and Oberyn grab as much as they can while I stand guard with Tunney.

"I'm fine, Corsan. Go help the others," she commands. I run deep inside the mouth of the Cornucopia. Larissa has just stuck an axe into Fausta's chest, who slumps to the floor, leaning up against a chest. I bring my sword down onto Larissa, but she is too quick. We remain locked in battle for a few seconds before I kick her in the gut and she falls back. I move Fausta's corpse out of the way and take everything I can carry. Food, clothes, medicine, blankets. Oberyn arrives behind me.

"We're leaving."

We escape the Cornucopia just as Cicero flees. Max and Lily are long gone as well. I can also see Broden and Fallon heading in the direction of the beach.

Tunney and Sergia have already run ahead, darting towards the two tall buildings. Oberyn and I follow quickly. All four of us have huge black backpacks and are well armed. And apart from Tunney's head injury, there doesn't seem to be any other physical damage apart from bruises or minor cuts. Falko fires one last arrow at us before returning to the Cornucopia with his alliance. It suck that they'll be left with the bulk of what's available, but we're pretty well off too. We don't stop running until our bodies refuse to move any more.

* * *

 **Lorna**

The screaming behind me refuses to cease. I run, wailing and sobbing as far away as possible. I don't pay attention to the direction, just Summer's face as she died. I will never forget that look of fear. I'm hyperventilating and my muscles burn, but I keep running. And running. And running.

* * *

 **Lily**

"Max, run! We need to hurry or they'll catch us!" I try not to blame him. He's carrying most of what we were able to get from the bloodbath. His face is red and mis breathing heavy. But we made it. We survived. Wait, that's not entirely true. Otis is dead. He was supposed to be our leader. What are we going to do now? We don't even have weapons. All Max has is a small knife designed for cutting vegetables.

The park is so scary. All the plants are overgrown and the rusty children's playground squeaks and creaks. I can hear the sound of water nearby.

"This way, Max!" I call, waving my hand. Up ahead is a collapsed bridge over a small creek. The ruined bridge should provide a decent hiding spot. When we arrive, we collapse and we cry fearfully and for a long time.

 **Lucas**

 _My alliance is dead,_ I think, turning a corner and skidding past a fallen lamppost. _Their faces will be in the sky tonight. I am alone._

The firing of cannons declares the bloodbath to be over. I stop to listen and count how many people I've gotten to know now are dead. I count nine. Silvan and Alec will be among them. The whirring of hovercraft passes over me, assigned to pick up the corpses. All my life I wanted to heal people. Now I'm going to have to kill them.

I pick up the pace again as quickly as I can, although my pack slows me down significantly. I turn another corner into an alleyway. It's a dead end. I'm about to turn around when a dark circle on the ground catches my eye. It's a manhole cover, probably leading to the sewers. I contemplate going down for a few seconds, and the sound of shouting not too far behind me prompts me to bend down and remove the cover. Should I? I have no idea what's down there. There could be traps or mutts. I flick on a flashlight and descend into the darkness.

* * *

 **Cicero**

I wait another hour or so even after the cannons have fired to let us know that the bloodbath is over. The old dumpster that I'm hiding in not too far away from the Cornucopia stinks, but it offers protection. My large eyes have adjusted to the dark and I see can that I'm sharing my space with a small cockroach.

The moment I realized that Fausta wasn't coming out of the Cornucopia, I bolted, leaving with nothing but the clothes on my back.

" _Don't worry,"_ she had said. " _I'm only going in for a minute. Hide behind this old car until I come back and give the signal._ "

Now I'm alone.

Hesitantly and with great fear, I lift the dumpster lid. The midday light blinds me and it takes a few seconds to adjust. Then I get out and retrace my steps as best I can to the Cornucopia. I get lost twice; I wasn't really paying attention to where I was running. But eventually, a sliver of gold catches my eye and I sneak over to where it sits, keeping well in the shadows.

I didn't really expect anyone to linger around. The two big alliances left with as much as they could carry. All that is left are empty crates and piles of blood. The Gamemakers will clean this up tonight. Careers usually hoard the supplies, but I guess there weren't enough supplies left over to guard, so whoever remained the longest just took what they could carry and left. What I'm doing here is what many a tribute has done over the years - scavenge. With Fausta dead, I'm on my own with nothing to eat and defend myself with. Sometimes stuff gets left behind. You never know, in the chaos of the bloodbath something might have been dropped or overlooked. I hope no-one else has the same idea as me.

After thoroughly investigating the remains of the fight that occurred here this morning, I leave with three items. The first is a pack of pretzels that someone must've stepped on, because there is more powder than pretzel. The second is a tiny flashlight, like the ones that people put on their keyrings. The third is a glove. Not a pair of gloves. A glove. It's not much, but it's better than nothing.

I try to find my dumpster again. Maybe I'll just hide in there until someone finds me. Well, I would if I could find it. In the total destruction of the city, I've become lost. In front of me is a dented, rusty car parked in a black alleyway. I go over and examine it. The paint has faded and the upholstery is rotting, but it's a better shelter than anything else around here. I curl up on the back seats and cry.

* * *

 **Broden**

When Fallon and I first arrived at the beach, we looked at each other and thought the same thing: do not drink the water. Sea water is supposed to be deep blue, or sometimes green or stormy grey depending on the weather. This water is the colour of olives and is thick like fruit juice. The waves move slower and don't make the same splashing sound like they're supposed to; it's more of a wet plop.

Fallon was the one who discovered the old fish cannery on a pier over the water. She thought there might be some food there. There were cans of fish there, but they were old cans. Very old. Dating way back to 2023, judging by the dates of production on their labels. We had tried opening one, but it smelled so bad we had to throw it away.

We lost Junia and Innogen. Neither Fallon or I talk about it although their bodies are still burned fresh in our brains. Junia's bloody mess for a face after Lenora was done with her. Innogen's screams and pleas for mercy before Oberyn's arrow went straight through her chest. It was after Innogen fell that we made a run for it. Fallon had a medium-sized pack, I had a smaller one. The first thing we did when we arrived in the cannery was unpack. There's only one sleeping bag and water bottle, but enough food for a few days. Plus Fallon has her axe and I have a small dagger that I picked up on the way out.

The more we investigate, the more we come to realize that this city is too detailed to have been constructed by Gamemakers. There are chests filled with documents, employee records, shipping details, accounting bills. The dates are from similar times to the cans. Fallon seems totally engrossed in reading them, but I'm too busy exploring.

By late afternoon I'm hungry but Fallon is fiercely protective of the food.

"Not until tomorrow, Broden. Even then, we need to ration very carefully."

"But I'm _starving_."

"You're not starving," Fallon chuckles. "Never in our lives have we ever truly starved."

* * *

 **Sergia**

"Hold still," I say, pressing the cloth to Tunney's head and wrapping several layers of sterile bandage around her head. She winces but doesn't say a word. Tough girl. In the Capitol, no-one gets anything worse than a broken bone if they're not too careful. This must be Tunney's worst injury she's ever had, and it's not too bad as far as head injuries go.

The boys are standing guard. Oberyn has his bow drawn a little too tightly. Corsan holds his sword a little too firmly. Their eyes are moving to rapidly, flitting from one direction to the other. Even my hands are shaking as I wrap the bandage around Tunney's head.

Tunney looks dazed. "I killed someone…" Her eyes stare into the distance like she's in shock. "I didn't mean to kill Otis. I just… he came at me. I had no other choice."

I rip the bandage with my teeth and finish wrapping. "Don't get worked up about it, Tunney. You did what you had to do. I killed someone too and you don't hear me talking about it."

Tunney stares at me. "Well, that's because you're an emotionless psychopath with no morals. I can't believe you don't regret what you did."

"Like I said, Tunney, we did what needed to be done. There's no use getting upset. They were going to die anyway. It was either them or me."

"Don't you see, Sergia? We're turning into savages. This is exactly what happened in the district Games. The Games turned people against one another and made them do things that they wouldn't ordinarily do."

"All done," I say, changing the subject. I help Tunney up and nod for the boys to join us. We've set up a temporary camp on the top storey of one of the tall buildings, which turns out to be a hotel, and thrown a bunch of old mattresses in a pile to sleep on.

"I'm going to go look around," Corsan says.

"Good. I'll come with you," Tunney declares.

"No, you won't. You're in no fit state. I'll go with Corsan. Lie down and rest. If you're scared, I'm sure Oberyn will protect you." I meant this last bit as a joke, but both Oberyn and Tunney scowl.

"I'm don't need protection," says Tunney.

"I'm not a bodyguard," says Oberyn at the same time.

I grab a slender knife and head downstairs with Corsan. When we first arrived, we had to choose between the dilapidated, old stairs and the even more dilapidated, older elevator. None of us were stupid enough to take the elevator.

Most of the floors are the same or very similar. None contain anything particularly useful. Most of them have fridges, but there's nothing inside them anyway. The most useful things are the grey, moth-bitten towels that we could use in case anyone gets cold, but we have enough sleeping bags to go around. Corsan tries messing with the water taps in each room; most don't work. Those that do only leak out a thin, rusty-coloured stream. We'll have to find our water elsewhere.

The kitchens on the bottom floor are by far the most interesting. All food has decomposed into nothing over the years, but not all of the utensils have rusted away. Some of the knives are actually in pretty good condition. I stash these away, of course. I'm in charge of the knives.

Tunney is fast asleep by the time we get back with our towels and knives. Oberyn is watching the sun set. We pass around a small bag of nuts to share for dinner, not daring to break into the real food yet.

There's an old phrase that people used to say in the Capitol. It's a very old phrase, so old that most people have forgotten where it originated. But it pretty much means that you're not in a familiar, safe place. You're in the wild.

 _We're not in Kansas anymore._

Yeah, we sure as hell ain't in Kansas anymore, wherever that is.

* * *

 **Falko**

The anthem. Drusilla. Vyctor. Summer. Alec. Junia. Silvan. Otis. Fausta. Innogen. Nine faces. Nine deaths. Silvan was mine.

But wait, there's more. Another face flashes under the heading 'Today's Sponsor Gift Winner'. It's little Cicero, his large green eyes glowing in the dark like an owl's. This is a strange, but not unfamiliar addition to the Games. Haymitch had explained that at the end of each day one of us would be rewarded with a sponsor gift if we did well in the Games. What could Cicero have done to deserve this and more importantly, what has he received? Next to me, the others are exclaiming in disappointment and anger. Of course they thought they were going to get the prize.

I hate them. I hate them all. I hate Larissa's smug little face. I hate Lenora's scheming and plotting. I hate Urban's superiority and righteousness. I want to kill them. I want to bury an axe in their bloated heads. I want to slit their throats and watch them bleed dry.

But I need allies so I can't.

Yet.

We sit around a fire in what used to be someone's backyard. The grass is overgrown and most of the house has rotted away, but a tree with the remains of a tyre swing shelters us. Urban has even set up a tent for the girls. But the conversation is as empty as our stomachs. Urban flirts with the girls, showing off his muscles while they giggle as though they haven't been responsible for the deaths of other kids this morning. Surely they're not stupid enough to realize that the Gamemakers are never going to fall for a fake romance. Not after what Katniss and Peeta pulled.

My entire thoughts today have been around how to kill my allies when the time is right. Analyzing their behaviours. Looking for weaknesses to exploit. Strengths to take into consideration.

Urban is probably the physically strongest tribute in the arena. I'll need to take him out from afar or stab him in the back.

Larissa scored the highest on the Intelligence Test in Training. She'll be one step ahead of me the whole time. I need to find a way to outsmart her.

Lenora knows how the Games work. Perhaps obsessing over the Careers year after year will pay off. I'll have to find a way to catch her off guard.

After we run out of wood for the fire, we call it a night. I take the first watch. Everything is quiet and still. It's more unnerving than movement.

I wait for the night to pass by and wish that it all would end.


End file.
